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“You’re positive I’m what you want?” I ask for confirmation. Though I feel like death, talking about this is keeping my mind off it.
Eli tilts his head. “Are you serious?”
I shrug because I’m jaded to men using me, but his confession has butterflies dancing in my stomach. “Yeah, kinda. Not sure I’m your type and all.”
“And what’s my type exactly?” he asks with an eyebrow arched.
Honestly, the kind of women Eli likes are beyond me, but most guys find me hard to handle or intimidating. “I dunno, perky boobs, fat lips, brunette, tan and tall.” I list out everything I’m not.
He smirks at my obvious lack of confidence.
“I’m thinking about a blonde with freckles, great suckable tits, and the perfect height for fitting under my arm in bed with the best ass in all of Manhattan,” he cracks. It’s the first time I’ve laughed in days. Even when I feel like shit, he has a way of helping me escape.
“That’s very descriptive. You sure she exists?” I mock.
“Oh, I’m fucking positive.” He winks, beaming at me. “And just to throw all your doubts out the window, you’re the only woman I want, Cami. I’m confident about that. All those years of teasing each other led us here, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be. Must be the fever giving you those crazy thoughts because I thought I’ve been more than obvious,” Eli jokes. He comes closer, pulling me into his arms until my head rests against his chest. His heart pounds as he holds me. Partly due to his confession, the other part because my anxiety spikes at this whole situation. My coughs come in waves, but they’re manageable. With him near me, I calm down.
As I drift away to dreamland, my breathing steadies, and Eli shifts, waking me. “You need to eat something. You skipped lunch, and I was getting ready to make you some dinner. What would you like?”
“I’m not hungry, and nothing sounds appealing.”
He softly presses his lips to my forehead. I miss his touch and wish I could kiss him. “Eating isn’t for enjoyment at the moment. You need to stay nourished and hydrated.”
I take shallow breaths, covering my mouth when I cough. “What about some tomato soup?”
He grins and hurries out of bed. “Grilled cheese?”
“No, maybe just a piece of toast.” I rest my head on the pillow as he nods.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He winks.
I snort and roll my eyes as I pull the sheet up to my chin. Eli walks out, and I’m still smiling. The anxiety I’ve felt the past few days is slowly fleeting. It’s comforting to have Eli nearby, but it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the risks and what’s at stake—his life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ELIJAH
DAY 25
A week ago, I went against my better judgment and entered Cami’s room. I knew I was risking exposure, but I also couldn’t forget how close we were just three days prior. Nothing I can do will change what happens. She’s been overly cautious, covering her mouth when she coughs and is continually washing her hands. There was a point when she even talked about wearing a mask to keep me from getting sick, but the damage has already been done.
I gave her my inhaler, and she uses it when she can’t catch her breath. Each day, I make her three meals, and though she doesn’t have an appetite, she eats some of it to appease me. There were a few nights when I was worried as fuck about her because she sounded like she was choking, and all I could do was wait it out. I was so fucking helpless watching her, wishing I could do more but knowing I couldn’t.
Each night, I lie next to her until her breathing steadies, and then she finally falls asleep. Her coughing has subsided, and lately, we’ve slept until the sun wakes us.
This morning, I roll over to see Cami looking at me with a sweet smile.
“I could get used to this,” she says in a low voice.
“To what?” I clear my throat.
“Waking up with you in my bed,” she admits, and if she wouldn’t freak out, I’d kiss her the way I’ve imagined for the past ten days. Our lips haven’t touched once, and she’s been adamant about me keeping some distance, though at this moment, we’re only inches apart. I watch her chest rise and fall, and I’m tempted but don’t. “You hungry?”
She nods. I slide the blankets off and stand, grabbing the thermometer and handing it to her. After she places it in her mouth, we wait for it to beep. She removes it and glances at the reading, then grins.
“No fever,” she whispers, turning it around to show me.
“Finally.” I let out a relieved breath. “You beat it, Cami.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and open my arms, and she falls into them.
